


But We Both Know, We're Never Gonna Get Along

by tofuchu



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-23
Updated: 2014-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-26 19:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2663852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofuchu/pseuds/tofuchu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>you talk too much, you never shut up, everything I do for you is never enough. every once in a while Havoc manages to pull out a little victory, unfortunately they never last.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But We Both Know, We're Never Gonna Get Along

A thin trail of smoke followed Havoc into the locker room of the shooting range, earning him some reproachful looks from his fellow soldiers. Havoc wasn’t bothered, however; getting to pick up a gun and just fire at something with no purpose whatsoever was the best part of his day. He deserved to embellish it with the  _other_  best part of his day, too.  
  
Havoc discarded his uniform jacket carelessly in his locker and exchanged it for his favorite bolt-action, releasing another puff as he walked out the door to the sweet music of casual gunfire. His eyes idly skimmed the range and picked up a familiar shock of short blonde hair, chatting amiably with someone Havoc couldn’t see. Dropping his cigarette and crushing it into the dirt with his boot, Havoc waved lazily and called out, “Yo! Lieutenant!”  
  
Hawkeye turned and flashed a small smile as he approached. “Lieutenant Havoc,” she said as a way of greeting. Straightening when he stopped in front of them, she gestured to the person she had been conversing with before he arrived. Havoc perked slightly when he got a better look. He recognized her up close; but having never known her name he simply labeled her in his head as “Cute Black Haired Girl” whenever he spotted her around the base. Gesturing between them, Hawkeye said, “Becc—I mean, Second Lieutenant Rebecca Catalina, Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc."  
  
“Ah,” Rebecca said lightly, recognizing the similarity in their ranks. “Guess I don’t have to salute you, then.”  
  
Hawkeye shot her an amused look, which made Havoc fidget a little. “Becca, you never salute  _anybody._ ” Rebecca grinned and shrugged her off.   
  
An eyebrow rose slightly when Havoc suddenly realized why this situation seemed so bizarre. For some reason, the thought had never occurred to him that Lieutenant Hawkeye might have friends. He wasn’t complaining though, as he shot the girl a subtle appraisal out of the corner of his eye. It must not have been as subtle as he intended however, because a smirk suddenly graced Rebecca’s lips and she lounged half-provocatively against the guard rail. “See anything you like, Lieutenant?”  
  
Suitably abashed, Havoc grumbled as he spun around and walked briskly to the rifle mats, ignoring the heat in his face and the snickering behind him. He lay down on his stomach casually, regulating his breathing. He wasn’t going to make a fool of himself twice. While he wasn’t a smooth talker, shooting was one thing he knew he could do without embarrassing himself. After he had everything in position and his focus fixed, Havoc took careful aim and started to squeeze the trigger—  
  
“Hey Havoc, nice ass!”  
  
His entire body jerked in one great, sudden motion, causing the barrel of his gun to lurch upward and fire straight into the sky. Face inflamed, Havoc looked around to find Rebecca, curled over herself in laughter, clutching the guard rail for support. Even Hawkeye was quaking somewhat, covering her mouth with her hand to hide an amused smile. Havoc’s open mouth twitched silently, struck dumb by this brutal girl and her outlandish actions.  
  
Grumbling, he turned around and readjusted his rifle. She wasn’t even that cute, anyway.  
  
&  
  
It wasn’t often Havoc visited the gym, but when he did he made sure it was between the hours of two and four p.m., when the secretaries went on break. It simultaneously provided motivation and, most days, a very nice view.  
  
Havoc groaned when he stepped into the weight room and was immediately met with the sight of Rebecca, leaning against a punching bag in the corner and waving to friends on the way out, leaving the two of them alone. Today was not going to be one of those days. Right as he considered simply turning around and leaving, Rebecca spotted him and grinned maliciously, trapping him and his pride into the room.   
  
“Afternoon, Havoc,” she chirped, “Not feeling too jumpy today, I hope?”  
  
Havoc elected not to respond her comment. Instead he threw his towel over the weight rack and turned to her with a sarcastic smile. “Tell me, Catalina,” he queried, “you spend all your time here or at the shooting range. Do you ever do any actual work?” he paused for a moment. “What  _is_  your job, anyway?”  
  
Rebecca scowled. “I’m the adjutant and assistant to Lieutenant General Grumman—“  
  
She was cut off by a loud, disbelieving snort from Havoc. “You’re a  _secretary!_ ” he laughed gleefully.  
  
Rebecca’s face turned slightly pink with indignation. “I am not!” she said hotly.  
  
“Yes you are!” Havoc laughed, sauntering towards her with a derisive smile on his face, “You’re a secretary who gets to order people around!”  
  
Fuming, Rebecca’s eyes darted once to the bright red mat that occupied most of the floor. Her expression changed to one of mocking superiority. “Oh yeah?” she countered, “Well that says a lot about you, then. Since this  _secretary_  could knock you on your ass in two minutes, tops.” She sent the punching bag towards him.  
  
Havoc caught it with ease. “You think so, huh?” he mused, still grinning stupidly.  
  
Rebecca smirked, but her eyes narrowed dangerously. “Want to find out?” she purred.  
  
Havoc tossed the bag back at her. “I don’t fight women,” he said idly.  
  
“Guess you’re smarter than I thought, then,” she remarked, thrusting the bag so hard the chain securing it to the ceiling squeaked in protest.  
  
Smile gone, Havoc shouldered it back to her without catching it. “Not happening, Catalina,” he said finally, turning back to the weights.  
  
Sighing dramatically, Rebecca steadied the bag and fell against it. “I don’t blame you,” she said, “after all; a guy who can’t even shoot a gun probably couldn’t take down a little girl.”  
  
That stopped Havoc in his tracks. He turned and shot her a look, suddenly serious. “You don’t want to go there, Catalina,” he warned.  
  
Rebecca shoved the bag aside and swayed purposefully towards him, wandering sideways to stand in the middle of the mat. “I think I do,” she smirked.   
  
With a huff, Havoc weighed his options. On the one hand, Rebecca was rather small and skinny. It wouldn’t take much to bring her down. He could probably finish her off without much fuss, and if he was careful, he could avoid hurting her while simultaneously getting her to shut up for a while. Shrugging, Havoc obliged. He stopped a few steps away from her, opening his arms in invitation. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he said with a smile.  
  
One icy glare later, Rebecca launched herself forward, reaching out as if to grab him. Havoc smirked. It was too easy. He grabbed her wrist as it flew to his chest and was almost on the verge of saying “I told you so” before the grin on Rebecca’s face warned him just moments too late. She twisted the wrist he held on to and brought it above her shoulder, taking Havoc’s entire body along with her. She grabbed the inside of his elbow and swung it over, pushing it towards the ground. Havoc had no choice but to fall to his knees unless he wanted a broken arm. With what he thought was completely unnecessary force; Rebecca leant down on top of him and pressed him into the mat.  
  
“Hmm,” she said lightly, seemingly unperturbed by the squirming man underneath her, “you were right. Only a minute and twelve seconds.”   
  
Cackling, she released his arm and got to her feet. By the time Havoc had gotten to his knees, very red in the face; Rebecca was already on her way out the door.  
  
&  
  
“Well she’s  _your_  friend,” Havoc complained. “So you should be able to figure out why she hates me so much.”  
  
“She doesn’t hate you, Lieutenant Havoc,” Hawkeye sighed patiently as she shuffled through a stack of papers in her hands. “That’s just Rebecca being Rebecca. She likes to have her fun, that’s all.”  
  
Havoc scoffed through his cigarette. “Well her  _fun_  nearly broke my arm,” he said crossly, ignoring the laughter coming from his coworkers across the room, “so how exactly is that like not hating me?”  
  
Hawkeye’s smile was tinged with sympathy. “I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose,” she assured him. “Don’t tell her I said it, but she’s actually very sweet when you get to know her.”  
  
“Look at it this way, Havoc,” Breda snickered across the room, “you finally got a girl paying attention to you!”  
  
Havoc picked up a paperweight and flung it at his head.  
  
&  
  
When he first thought it up, staying late at the range after everyone went home sounded like a great idea. No distractions, complete silence; and most importantly, no she-devils. What Havoc hadn’t considered was that by the time everyone cleared out, it would be too dark to shoot.  
  
Well, he never claimed to be the brightest.  
  
After vainly trying three rounds, all of which barely grazed the border of the target sheet, Havoc admitted defeat and threw the rifle over his shoulder, sighing as he headed back into the locker room to gather his things. He was surprised to hear a faint scuffle coming from the restroom in the far corner. Just as he considered going over to investigate, the door swung open; releasing perfumed air, steam, and a freshly scrubbed Rebecca into the room. She saw him almost as instantly as he saw her.  
  
“What are  _you_  doing here?” they accused each other at the same time.  
  
Rebecca pursed her lips. “The shower in my apartment is broken. What are  _you_  doing here?”  
  
Havoc glared hesitantly at her. “I wanted to have the place to myself,” he said.  
  
“But it’s too dark to shoot,” Rebecca noted, her brow furrowed in confusion.  
  
Havoc slammed his locker open with more force than necessary. “Well now I know that,” he snapped. He kept his eyes stubbornly fixed forward, determined not to acknowledge the scathing laughter slowly traveling down the aisle.   
  
“ _God_  you’re stupid,” Rebecca said between giggles, tossing a wet towel into her own locker. Havoc grumbled as he reached for the pack and lighter he kept sitting on the top shelf. He ignored the loud disapproving noise from his right as he stuck a cigarette in his mouth and flicked the flame to life underneath it. Once the tip was glowing he shook the lighter dead and took a deep breath, releasing a hazy grey cloud of calm. Now he was suitably armed for dealing with anything.  
  
“ _Tch._  You know you’re going to kill yourself with those things,” Rebecca chastised him.  
  
Havoc grinned sarcastically, pulling the stick out of his mouth and exhaling a slow, deliberate column of smoke. “What, you worried about me, Catalina?”  
  
Rebecca scoffed. “Hardly,” she said, waving her hand exaggeratedly in front of her face as if to ward off the fog, “I’m worried about myself.”  
  
Havoc secured his rifle in and rolled his eyes. “Of course you are,” he muttered.  
  
“What was that?” Rebecca asked sharply.   
  
Havoc let out another puff. “Of course you’re worried about yourself,” he elaborated, “that’s all you  _ever_  worry about.”  
  
When he didn’t receive an immediate retort, Havoc turned to face her. Rebecca’s lips hung open slightly, her eyes on him. But it wasn’t the irritated, superior glare he had come to associate her with. In fact, for almost half a moment, Havoc could swear he saw her look  _hurt._  
  
It ended when she turned away. “Is that so,” she said quietly. Havoc’s insides twisted. It was regret, he supposed, that suddenly made him wish she was firing some sarcastic quip back at him, instead of silently rearranging her locker and openly avoiding looking anywhere near him like she was.  
  
Havoc scratched the back of his neck. “Look, I’m sor—“  
  
“It’s fine,” Rebecca snapped. “Forget about it.”  
  
He stiffened slightly. “I’m just trying to apologize!” he said hotly.  
  
“Apology accepted,” she replied.   
  
Havoc wasn’t satisfied. He threw his arms in the air. “I don’t get it, Catalina. What is your problem with me? Why are you always jumping down my throat? Why do you hat—“  
  
Rebecca crossed the distance between them in three steps and cut him off with her reply, which took the form of seizing the front of his shirt and pulling his mouth down on hers. The freshly lit cigarette was knocked clean out of his mouth. In the time it took Havoc’s brain to digest what was happening she had already rooted her hands in his hair, securing his face to her own. She did not receive much opposition.  
  
It wasn’t a kiss like Havoc had ever had. Rebecca’s lips were rough and hot and demanding. Her deceptively skinny arms allowed no room for argument even if he cared to give one. Much to his own surprise, he didn’t. If he did, he was doing a very poor job of it, as one palm was currently sliding down Rebecca’s back and the other was collecting a fistful of curly black hair. For a while there was no noise other than the occasional brief, wild gasp and a poorly stifled groan as Havoc’s fingers dipped beneath the fabric of her shirt.   
  
Eventually it was Rebecca who made the first protest and shook him off. In the oxygen deprived haze that was Havoc’s mind he vaguely wondered when he had pinned her up against the lockers, or how exactly his shirt had come untucked, or why Rebecca’s fingers were trembling against his chest.   
  
“Gotcha,” he said hoarsely, all his breath currently retained in Rebecca’s lungs.  
  
Rebecca sucked her lips inside her mouth as though she were afraid he would try and reinitiate the kiss. After what was probably the longest ten seconds in the history of mankind, she slipped under his arm and raced out the door.  
  
Aside from Havoc’s muddled clothes and a slight tightness under his belt, no evidence that anything occurred at all existed except for the crumbled remains of a burnt out cigarette smoldering on the floor.  
  
&  
  
It didn’t take a genius to figure out something was wrong when Rebecca, who practically lived at the shooting range, didn’t show up for three days. Havoc might have handled it better if it weren’t for the all-too-sharp sideways glares he got regularly from the Lieutenant. Like she  _knew_. Damn Hawk’s Eye.  
  
He couldn’t have imagined it, he kept repeating to himself; his own imagination wasn’t nearly so kind to him. He only needed five minutes alone with Rebecca to confirm that, which proved problematic as Havoc slowly realized he knew almost nothing about her.  
  
After all but giving up hope, Havoc ambled into the locker room late in the afternoon, a cigarette dangling precariously from the edge of his mouth. He stopped in front of his locker and had it opened for almost a full minute before doing a sharp double take and surrendering the stick to gravity. Rebecca stood at the end of the row, folding her towel neatly into her shelf as if there was nothing wrong with the world. After a quick scan of the room for safety, Havoc leaned as far as he could towards her and hissed meaningfully. Rebecca looked up at him. He jerked his head back, beckoning her over. Tightening her lips into a firm line, she walked calmly down to where he stood.   
  
“What do you want, Lieutenant Havoc?” she asked briskly.  
  
Havoc gaped at her. “What do I— you’re not serious.” When she made no attempt to correct him, he took another look around the room before continuing. “The other night. Here. Two steps away from where you’re standing. What  _was_  that?”  
  
Rebecca did her own hurried scan before replying. “Nothing, okay?” she whispered harshly. “Just forget about it.”  
  
“Like hell!” Havoc said a bit too loudly. Rebecca swatted him on the arm and looked around to make sure no one had heard. Havoc let out an irritated breath and craned over to be directly, unavoidably in her line of sight. “Come on, Rebecca,” he said seriously. “Just tell me.”  
  
He could practically see her will crumpling before him. “Look, I’m sorry,” Rebecca mumbled, “It was a mistake, alright? It was stupid.”  
  
“I didn’t think it was stupid,” said Havoc.  
  
“Of course you didn’t, you’re an idiot,” Rebecca replied. Havoc grinned lazily at that. Rebecca scowled, though there wasn’t much heart to it. “But it doesn’t matter anyway, because it won’t happen again,” she said.  
  
“Why not?” Havoc asked resentfully.  
  
Rebecca’s lips parted in disbelief. “Why no—  _this is why not!_ ” she hissed, tugging on the sleeve of his uniform jacket. “There are like a gazillion laws against this sort of thing!” she shook her head. “You’re cute, Havoc, but not enough to go to jail for.”  
  
Unable to decide whether that was a compliment or an insult or both, Havoc disregarded the statement completely. “Yeah, but that’s only a problem if we get caught,” he said.  
  
Rebecca laughed humorlessly. “Newsflash, dumbass: your boss is my best friend, and the most annoyingly perceptive person on the face of the planet. We’re  _going_  to get caught.”  
  
Havoc ran his hands through his hair. “Well then what do you want us to do?” he asked hopelessly.  
  
“ _Nothing!_ ” Rebecca whispered angrily. “ _Absolutely freaking nothing!_ ”  
  
It earned her another stupid grin and a throaty, infuriating chuckle. Havoc shook his head. “Hate to break it to you Catalina,” he said with amusement, “but  _nothing_  went out the window when you shoved your tongue down my—“  
  
“General Grumman!” Rebecca shouted pointedly over his shoulder. Havoc stifled a yelp of surprise and prepared a salute, turning to greet his superior officer. Once he was facing the doorway, however, there was no one there. He looked back at Rebecca for an explanation and was met with two charcoal eyes staring meaningfully up at his own. “You see?” she said slowly, “ _That’s_  how easy it would be.”  
  
Havoc scratched the back of his neck and began to shrug off his jacket. It didn’t help his argument that she was, of course, completely right. “You ever stop to think it might be worth it?” he muttered to her as he dropped the uniform onto a hanger.  
  
There was a long pause in which he saw Rebecca fidget out of the corner of his eye. Havoc suppressed a tiny amount of pride at the flush on her face. “You ever stop to think that you’re an idiot?” she grumbled lamely, unable to summon a proper response.  
  
Much to her confusion, Havoc grinned. Quickly, and to Rebecca’s surprise, he darted towards the doorway, poking his head out slightly. Everyone present was hard at work or absorbed in their shooting; no one looked to be coming inside any time soon. Havoc shut the door swiftly and locked it. Before Rebecca could utter a single word of protest, Havoc was already back at her side; then pressed up against her, then tangled with her as he lifted her up almost effortlessly onto the table and made it impossible for her to make any protests of any kind. The corners of his lips twitched upward at how quickly Rebecca complied.   
  
It was too brief, and too frantic, and too carnal as Rebecca’s hands gripped his shoulders and Havoc roughly slid up the fabric of her top; but they both knew they didn’t have too long and a locked door would definitely call suspicion when someone tried to come inside. Their breathing was jagged and desperate when they did pull apart and Havoc tried to swallow down enough oxygen to speak again. “Why don’t you check out this bar on Third Street,” he suggested breathlessly, his calloused fingers gently caressing the soft skin under her shirt, “maybe you’ll see how much of an idiot I can be.”  
  
The wicked smile on Rebecca’s face made his entire body shiver.  
  
&  
  
“There will be no objections,” Mustang ruled, “you’re all coming with me.”  
  
A collective, mechanical reply of “Sir!” echoed throughout the room. Havoc’s straightened hand flew instinctively to his forehead before he faltered. His heart sputtered as he rushed to correct himself. “Wait, Colonel,” he stammered, “there’s a problem. I, uh, sort of just started seeing this girl.”  
  
“Dump her,” said Mustang simply.

**Author's Note:**

> repost from my old livejournal. thought i'd share it on this site too. :) there's not enough of this pairing out there for my liking. title is from the lyrics of a bowling for soup song.


End file.
